


The part of you that's left behind

by Romiress



Category: Injustice: Gods Among Us
Genre: (explained in notes), Angst with a side of Porn, Bottom Bruce Wayne, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Mutual Unexpressed Feelings, Post Injustice 1, Throat Fucking, Top Clark Kent, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violent Sex, major consent issues, seriously a lot of ANGST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25583470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: Bruce should leave Kal in his prison, but he simply can't leave well enough alone.Instead, he attempts to work through his issues in the least healthy manner possible: by offering himself up to Kal.--Written forSuperbat Week 2020, day three: on your knees.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 124





	The part of you that's left behind

**Author's Note:**

> This work has some major consent issues. If that's something that you prefer to go into with full knowledge of, hop down to the end notes for a detailed summary of what this entails.

Bruce is doing a stupid thing. He _knows_ it's a stupid thing, and yet he's doing it anyway.

While no single system is purely his, there's no question that Bruce was instrumental in the creation of the prison that holds Kal. He chose the facilities place in the larger prison. He designed the layout. He created the red-sun generators, and worked out the array that would produce maximum coverage.

The prison is _his,_ and Bruce knows just how to take it apart. He knows how to gain access, how to both loop the feed and ensure that no one else notices that he's looped it.

There's no guard to trick. They can't trust guards to keep Kal in, so it's entirely automated. The guards are all outside, past the looped system; when he's done, Bruce will have to plug the hole in security himself, to prevent anyone else from doing what he's about to.

Kal's prison is a single room, suspended in a sphere of red-sun lamps. He has no privacy, exposed to the world and the hundreds of cameras watching his every move. His entire room is nothing more than a bed, a small table, and a stack of books. The books are a bonus, a reward for good behavior, and when he first arrived he didn't even have those.

Kal looks up as Bruce steps out onto the small platform. It extends once he's in place, sliding out to where Kal's glass prison waits. The entire room is like an air lock, preventing Kal from escaping by nature of its design, but as Bruce goes he second guesses having built a _second_ air lock to allow access to the room itself.

He hadn't thought it was needed: why would anyone ever go inside?

Kal stands when he sees Bruce coming, pacing towards the door and waiting. He still looks the same as he did when he first went in, unchanging and eternal, distinguished only by his clothes: a white tank top and the bottom half of an orange prison jumpsuit.

Kal's eyes narrow. He's expecting a lecture. Maybe he's thrown off by the fact that Bruce is wearing a suit rather than his armor. By the fact that he's _Bruce,_ not _Batman._

Part of the wall slides out of place, allowing Bruce access to the prison. He steps through, all hesitation having died off long ago.

He's thought about it for a long time. He's thought about coming here and doing this. He's played it out in his mind a million times, and yet he can never decide what Kal will do.

Now he knows: Kal backs up, giving him room. He's wary, expecting some sort of trap, and he retreats to near his bed, waiting for it to be sprung. Under the red light, Bruce has the advantage: they might be equally strong, but Bruce has far more experience fighting at that level.

In a fight, Bruce knows he would win, and Kal obviously thinks the same thing.

"What do you think you're doing, Bruce?"

Here Bruce falters. In his mind, Kal never asked. Things happened, but he never had to _explain._ He doesn't even know how too. Doesn't know what he could say that would explain.

His mind feels twisted. _Wrong._

He can't explain what he's thinking because he isn't; he's just acting, flowing from one moment to the next without ever stopping to let himself think about why.

The why will kill him. The why will rot him from the inside out.

Bruce knows it already is, but he tries to pay it as little attention as possible. Tries to pretend like it isn't. Like he's fine.

"I could kill you," Kal says simply. There's steel in his voice, and the sound of it makes a shiver run down Bruce's spine.

"You could."

Bruce can't even tell if he's telling the truth. Is he lying? Kal could try, but he doesn't know if he'd be able to manage it.

For that matter, Bruce isn't sure he'd even try and stop Kal.

Everything feels twisted up inside, which is why he's there at all: he wants release. He wants resolution. He wants Kal to give him answers that he knows will hurt them both.

Kal reaches out, grabbing his collar and hauling him forward. Bruce offers no resistance, allowing Kal to drag him off his feet, dangling him in the air.

"I see what this is," Kal spits, his words venom. "You came here without weapons. Without any sort of armor. All this so that I'd hurt you."

Does he want that? Bruce doesn't even know. 

Maybe he wants Kal to win. A part of him has always wanted that: for Kal to be right. For things to be over. It's the easy, simple solution: he lets Kal out. Kal resumes what he was doing before. The world becomes safe.

Freedom dies on the lips of every human who wishes for it. There is only Superman, and the structure of the world he sees as ideal.

He doesn't want that.

He just wants Kal, and this is the only way he can have him.

Kal backhands him, his rage and anger palpable, and the blow's strong enough—and Bruce too distracted to roll with it properly—that it nearly sends him to his knees. He doesn't have time to pull himself together before Kal's hand tangles into his hair, jerking Bruce's head up to face him.

Bruce feels sick. He wants it—he wants everything that's happening—but it's still not enough. He wants so much more and he can feel the tears welling in his eyes.

Maybe Kal sees them. Maybe he doesn't.

"On your knees."

Bruce desperately wants to know what's going through Kal's head as he forces Bruce onto his knees in front of him. He can't even being to guess; Kal's mind has been opaque to him for a long time.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" Kal digs his fingers of his free hand into the sides of Bruce's jaw, forcing him to open. "You want me. You always wanted me."

Kal isn't wrong. Bruce has always, _always_ wanted him. Wanted him in ways he shouldn't have, not when Kal was married. Not when he had Lois. It was wrong, but forcing down those feelings hadn't changed that Bruce had them. 

"I'm sorry," Bruce murmurs, and that's all the chance Kal needs to drag his mouth open.

The hand leaves Bruce's hair, dipping down to jerk the waistband of Kal's pants down, taking his underwear with it. His cock is already half-hard, and Bruce lets out a small, quiet sob at the sight of it.

He's hard himself. Rock hard in his pants, his erection straining against the dark slacks. He's been hard for longer than he'll ever admit, the sight of Kal so close dangerous to him.

He wants Kal so much, and in the end he'll have to take Kal in whatever way he's willing to give.

He doesn't protest as Kal feeds Bruce his cock, shoving it into his mouth without warning or preamble.

"You would let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?"

He would. Right then, as a shiver runs down his spine, Bruce _would_ let Kal do anything to him.

For the first time, Bruce has Kal in his mouth. He can taste him, even as Kal presses inward, leaving him barely any room to breathe. He could bite, he realizes (Kal's far from invulnerable under the red light), but has no desire too.

He wants it. He wants Kal in his mouth, the taste of him heavy on Bruce's tongue. Wants the _feel_ of him there, even as that _feeling_ pushes right past the back of Bruce's mouth, triggering Bruce's gag reflex. He has to fight it, taking deep breathes through his nose in an attempt to bring himself back to a tolerable level.

"Good," Kal says simply, and Bruce's entire body shivers. He wishes he didn't react so much. He wishes the tiniest bit of Kal's praise didn't turn him into putty in the other man's hand. He just wants him so badly. Wants everything Kal has to give.

Kal's fingers thread tightly into Bruce's hair as he shifts his grip, his hold firm as he pulls his hips back, dragging the underside of his cock across Bruce's tongue. Bruce knows what's coming before it happens, and he has time to relax his throat before Kal abruptly rocks forward.

Even so, it isn't enough. Bruce can barely hang on at the pace Kal sets, each thrust hard and demanding. The pain from his scalp is bad, but the pain in his throat is even worse. Between the ache in his jaw and the impression that his throat is somehow _bruising,_ a small part of Bruce wonders if he'll even manage to keep anyone from noticing.

It isn't enough to stop him, not that there's much to stop. Bruce is doing very little other than allowing himself to go slack and keeping his gag reflex in check: Kal is the one doing most of the work as he relentlessly fucks Bruce's face. The grunts he's making are satisfying, but the noises and the sensation aren't enough to hold back the emotions. Aren't enough to make him forget why he's there, on his knees in front of Kal.

He loves him so much, but Kal is like the sun: painful to look at and dangerous to draw close to. Every touch, every movement only serves to cement the reality of it: Clark is gone. Only Kal-El remains.

There are tears running down his face as Kal starts to finish, the pain dwarfed by the regrets that come along with it. Bruce can only tell he's done because of how erratic his movements become, as Kal offers him no warning.

He expects to be forced to swallow. It only seems fitting, considering how intent Kal has been on shoving his cock down Bruce's throat. Instead, Kal draws back, stroking himself with a nearly silent groan as he cums, splattering Bruce's face. Bruce cringes, eyes squeezing shut to keep from being blinded.

"You should have bowed a long time ago," Kal says. His voice is whisper-soft, and hearing him speak in that tone is like a knife to Bruce's heart. "If you had..."

He doesn't finish. He doesn't need too. They both can only speculate at what might have happened if Bruce had gone along with Kal. If he'd stayed at his side and helped him enforce his ways upon the people.

"Oh, I suppose I should get that," Kal says, and Bruce doesn't even know what he means until Kal suddenly shifts forward.

It's not a stroke or a nudge. It's not anything half so gentle. Kal simply shifts forward, pressing his foot against Bruce's cock and applies a bit of pressure.

Bruce loses what remains of his self control immediately. He whines, rocking forward, and that's all it takes for him to finish, soaking the front of his slacks and underwear with his own cum, leaving a messy wet spot right where Kal's foot rests.

He risks opening his eyes, staring up at the man above him. Kal is still, if nothing else, gorgeous. Even under the red light, even trapped for months, he still looks amazing. Perfect.

He's everything Bruce has ever wanted, wrapped up in everything Bruce has ever feared.

There's a brief moment, no more than a blink, when Kal's expression softens. It doesn't last, and he swats Bruce away, frustration in his every move.

"Get out of here."

It takes a moment for Bruce to manage to stand. His knees are going to bruise, and his clothes are ruined. It takes a second for him to get his jaw back set, halfway to being dislocated by Kal's rough thrusts. When he walks towards the exit, it's with an obvious limp, his entire body stiff and painful.

He doesn't look back. He doesn't _allow_ himself to look back. He knows Kal won't try and leave, won't violate the understanding they have there.

If Kal tries to follow him out, the understanding snaps. He won't be able to escape, anyway, and it will all be for nothing.

But if he doesn't, if he lets Bruce leave without issue, then Kal still has the knowledge of what they've done. An unspoken understanding of the power that Kal holds over him.

The power that he'll _always_ hold, so long as Bruce's heart still beats.

Bruce can't ever let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> Strictly speaking, both Clark and Bruce fully consent to what's happening here. Bruce goes into the situation understanding what will happen, and not just open for it, but hoping for it. He, strictly speaking, has the power in the situation, as he's the jailor to Clark's prison. However, Clark is the instigator: while he doesn't know what's happening to start, by the time anything happens he has a fairly good idea that what he's doing was what Bruce _wanted_ him to do.
> 
> There's absolutely consent issues involved, but those fall on both sides, and it's a pretty messy situation.


End file.
